|
Faithful husband, soccer dad,
basset owner, and former cowboy
Return to TboggHomePage
FELLOW TRAITORS
*The Nether-Count*
100 Monkeys Typing
Ain't No Bad Dude
Alicublog
Americablog
American Leftist
Attytood (Will Bunch)
Bad Attitudes
Balloon Juice
Better Inhale Deeply
Bitch Ph.D
Bloggy
Bob Harris
Brilliant At Breakfast
BusyBusyBusy
Byzantium's Shores
Creek Running North
Crooked Timber
Crooks and Liars
Cursor
Daily Kos
Dependable Renegade
David Ehrenstein
Democratic Veteran
Dohiyi Mir
Down With Tyranny
Echidne of the Snakes
Edicts of Nancy
Elayne Riggs
Eschaton (Atrios)
Ezra Klein
Failure Is Impossible
Feministe
Feministing
Firedoglake
First Draft
Freewayblogger
The Garance
The Group News Blog
Guano Island
Hairy Fish Nuts
Hammer of the Blogs
Hullabaloo(Digby)
I Am TRex
If I Ran the Zoo
I'm Not One To Blog
Interesting Times
James Wolcott
Jesus' General
Jon Swift
Juan Cole
King of Zembla
Kung Fu Monkey
Lance Mannion
Lawyers Guns and Money
Lean Left
Liberal Oasis
Main & Central
Majikthise
Making Light (Nielsen Hayden)
Mark Kleiman
Martini Revolution
MaxSpeak
MF Blog
MyDD
Needlenose
The Next Hurrah
Nitpicker
No More Mr. Nice Blog
Norbizness
Norwegianity
Oliver Willis
One Good Move
Orcinus
Pacific Views
Pam's House Blend
Pandagon
Pharyngula
Political Animal(K.Drum)
The Poorman
Progressive Gold
Right Hand Thief
Rising Hegemon
Roger Ailes
Rude Pundit
Rumproast
Sadly, No
Seeing The Forest
Shakesville
Sisyphus Shrugged
Skippy the Bush Kangaroo
Slacktivist
SteveAudio
Suburban Guerilla
TalkLeft
The American Street
The Left Coaster
The Road To Surfdom
The Sideshow
The Talking Dog
The Talent Show
Tom Tomorrow
Tom Watson
Whiskeyfire
UggaBugga
Wampum
Wonkette
World O'Crap
TOSS ME
A BONE
Amazon Wish List
SOURCES
MSNBC
CNN
The Washington Post
Media Matters
The New York Times
The Guardian
Yahoo News
Salon
The Raw Story
Common Dreams
Media Transparency
The Nation
Alternet
Joe Conason
Talking Points Memo
THE VAST WASTELAND
Captain Corndog & Friends
Cheerleaders Gone Spazzy
80% True
Corner of Mediocrity and Banality
Village Idiots Central
Darwin's Waiting Room
News for Mouthbreathers
Mailbox
Your e-mail may be reprinted sans name and e-mail address. Think about how stupid you want to appear.
Blogroll Me!
Site Feed
|
Thursday, March 03, 2005
The Jonah Chronicles: It Was A Dark and Jonah Night
She turned feeling eyes on her back. She had never known such intensity. Their were many guys staring at them, well what do you expect, a beautiful blond, a fiery redhead, and a sparkly brunette. But one of those guys stood out in particular.
She looked over the cafe, twisting slightly in her seat, trying to find out who it was that was looking at her, so intensely that she could feel it without even looking... almost luring her to... she didn't know what.
She finally found him, and stared, her usual evil glare, and indifferent stature diminishing entirely. He was about 5' 7", scruffy brown hair, little piggy eyes, garbed in Dockers and a black Billy Joel River of Dreams tour t-shirt that was bunched up around his man-boobs.
It seemed like hours ago that she had just been laughing with her friends about such trivial topics as which store to shop at, and what losers men were. But here was a real one, staring at her as he sucked the gristle off of his 34th Buffalo wing.
His eyes caught hers; she was under his spell completely and found that she could not look away. It was like a terrible car accident except that there were no cars and it wasn't really an accident, but that terrible part still applied. She heard her friends calling her name in the background, asking if she was ok. They stopped when they saw him walking over to their table in the back of the dark cafe, stopping briefly to unwedge his too tight mini-briefs from his butt.
She had always liked the dark, thrived in it, and now she knew why, for that man coming toward her was surely darkness himself. And if we wasn't darkness, then he was definitely dim. 'Close enough', she mused.
A chill went up her spine when he took her hand, it was so cold, and greasy from the wings. She noticed his ring had a deathhead with cubic zirconium eyes and something clicked in her mind. He was a graduate of Goucher College, the most evil of all the liberal arts colleges in Maryland.
Silently she followed him out, her friend staring after her as if in a trance, but she didn't notice. She did notice the trailing banner of toilet paper that boldly waved from the elastic waistband of his pants, but she chalked that up to part of his charm
He brought her to a house just down the block, and carried her inside, down into a candlelit chamber underground which was really just a basement with a sprung couch, a washer, a dryer, and an old pachinko machine. He led her to the couch which was the color of a bowl of milk laden with Trix that's been sitting out all day. He brought her a gown, black and gauzy, almost see through, and she slowly stripped off her cloths and donned the dress. "It's my mom's", he muttered, and a she felt a tremor of excitement, or maybe it was queasiness, ripple through her body. He walked towards her and settled onto the couch, something dark and ominous in his hand.
It was then that she she glanced around the room and she saw something hidden in the shadows. It was long and black, old with time, worn, and yet still as beautiful as the day it had been crafted. It was a TV.
Trembling now, she saw the dark stranger unbutton the top button of his pants and slide his right hand into them, his thumb hooked over the gratefully relieved elastic waistband. His other hand rose and she saw, to her horror, that it was a remote. The TV flickered to life and she heard the ominous grind of a VCR. On the screen appeared the words:
Star Trek Voyager: Season Five.
She screamed into the darkness...
|
|
